


Wasn't Expecting That

by Marvelite5Ever



Series: That X-Force AU where the mercenaries like attention, the telepathekenetics have varying degrees of guilt complexes, and the genetically enhanced, nanoactive supersoldiers are almost constantly confused [3]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Domino wants them to just kiss already, F/M, Finally, Gen, I promise, M/M, Nate is an idiot, Psylocke has to help them out, Psylocke wants them to just kiss already, Wade and Nate FINALLY kiss, Wade and Nate are idiots who don't realize they both love each other, Wade is an idiot, Wade knows Noh-Varr from his time in the Cube, and telepaths, does anybody know who Noh-Varr is?, don't disregard this story yet, eventually, he's awesome, thank god for girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/pseuds/Marvelite5Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sequel to <i>Wish I Didn't Love You.</i>)</p><p>Cable's X-Force team gains two new members, and he and Wade finally become an official item.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well This is Kind Of Awkward

**Author's Note:**

> We are ignoring everything in Marvel canon after _Cable & Deadpool #50,_ in a universe where the mutant situation wasn't so desperate (we're basically ignoring the whole “No more mutants” debacle), and there doesn't end up being the whole thing with Hope and Avengers vs. X-Men and the Phoenix Force and alllll that.  
>  **And we're ignoring the events of _Civil War: Young Avengers & Runaways._**  
> We're also probably ignoring like a ton of stuff.  
> Yep. We're ignoring it all. Hi-chaa!  
> The continuity is just really messed up. Don't think about it too hard, kay? 
> 
> Also, there's some French in this chapter. But I don't speak French, and all the translations are from Google Translate, which I'm fully aware isn't all that reliable. What I believe to be the translations are included in the ending notes, but if somebody knows French and they're wrong, please do let me know.

* * *

**_~One day later, X-Force base, undisclosed location somewhere in New York State~_ **

* * *

As soon as Wade entered the X-Force base, Domino walked up a punched him hard in the face. 

There was a loud _crack!_

“Ow,” Wade said obligingly as he set his broken jaw. “I deserved that.” 

“Damn right you did,” Domino snorted, turning and stalking over to the couch, flopping onto it and sprawling over the cushions, one leg draped over the armrest, the other draped off the edge of the couch and onto the floor. 

“It's good to see you again too, Neena,” Wade grinned. 

Domino humphed and started cleaning one of her guns. “Why are you wearing Nathan's jacket?” 

Wade glanced down at the long brown trenchcoat he was still wearing over his sweats and t-shirt. It was so big on him that it hung loosely from his frame, and the hem swept the floor. “He forgot to bring me a jacket, so I stole his. But it didn't have a hood, so then I made him buy me this hat,” he gestured to the Hawaii Rainbow Warriors baseball cap he was wearing. 

“I would've shot you in the chest, but I didn't want to put a hole in Nate's jacket and get it covered in blood,” Domino said frankly. 

“I appreciate it,” Nathan said from where he was standing behind Wade, trying to push the mercenary farther into the room. 

Wade took one step forward before freezing as another woman walked into the room. 

However, while Domino was wearing a black and blue catsuit that covered her entire body and zipped up to her neck, which was pretty battle-practical except for when she zipped it low enough to show off her breasts (she tended to do that around Deadpool—he suspected she did that because she knew how distracting it was, and wanted to catch him off guard or make sure that he was at least paying attention to her, what with his goldfish-on-crack attention span), this other woman was wearing what was basically a one-piece black swimsuit with thigh-high boots. 

She also had long black hair, a thin white sash around her hips, and a glowing-purple psychic blade around a clenched fist. 

“Psylocke, right?” Wade hazarded. “Usually I'd wolf-whistle, cuz _damn_ —but you probably get that a lot, and I kinda think that if I did, you'd stab me with that psi-blade you got goin', and then everybody would be sad, because I don't think you'd survive stabbing that through my mind and seeing all my dirty little secrets.” 

She glared at him. And she was pretty scary, he had to admit. Though the bathing suit didn't really seem practical. Captain Marvel could pull it off because she was practically invulnerable. 

But then, Elektra wore that style of suit, as well, and she was just a really, really badass ninja. 

So Wade supposed that Psylocke's choice of suit meant she was advertising that she was a badass ninja, and she was probably pretty dangerous. (And hey, he was totally appreciating the view.)

It had to be a ninja thing. Superspies and supersoldiers like Black Widow and Domino wore catsuits. Probably because they were more about just getting shit done instead of being distracting and intimidating. 

Shut up, of course he'd put thought into all of this—woman put a lot of thought into what they wore, and Wade put a lot of thought into women, because they were hot and had boobs. 

Not to say he didn't pay attention to men, too, because he did—and there was a very, very nice specimen standing behind him, broad and muscular and gracefully aged. 

There were beautiful people all around him, actually, and Wade was trying not to fidget and duck his head, painfully aware that the his scarred, ulcer-covered face was on full display (the hat really didn't do as much as a hood would. Oh hey, rhyme!). 

“There's a very good reason why telepaths hate my mind and avoid it at all costs,” Wade offered, since Psylocke was still glaring at him, and he could feel her trying to get a grip on his mind. “Isn't that right, Nate?” 

“Pretty much,” Nathan said, giving Wade another push into the room, because the mercenary was still standing in the doorway from the hall and blocking Nathan from entering.

Wade could be incredibly hard to budge when he wanted to be.

“And I'm not alone up here,” Wade added, gesturing at his head. “Although my buddy seems to be oddly quiet. You still there, crazy voice in my head?” 

[Nope. Totally not here. Because I'm totally not a new permanent fixture in the fucked-up mess that is your mind. It was just a temporary extrapolation of your insanity.] 

“Yeah, he's still there,” Wade told the room and the three people staring at him. It was really starting to make him uncomfortable, and he was shuffling his feet awkwardly, his eyes flicking around the room, signs of nervousness he didn't want to be showing, but he couldn't really help it. 

“What is _he_ doing here?” Psylocke demanded, turning her glare to Cable, saying 'he' like Deadpool was some kind of disgusting monster. 

Which he supposed he kinda was. 

“Only a month ago, Deadpool tried to destroy the _world._ And didn't you _kill_ him?” 

Nathan finally managed to move Wade out of the way so he could enter the room. “Wade doesn't stay dead,” Nathan said calmly, holding her gaze, steady and unflinching. “Since he's alive again, I thought it would be better to have him on our side so we can make sure he stays out of trouble.” 

“More like: 'make sure he causes trouble for our enemies rather than us, and only within pre-set parameters,'” Wade corrected, hands shoved as deep into the pockets of the jacket he was wearing as anyone could shove their hands into the pockets of a jacket so big on them that they couldn't even touch the bottom of the pockets with their fingers outstretched. 

“That _is_ more accurate,” Nathan agreed. 

[And _that_ is why we love him. Well, one of the reasons, at least.]

“Shut up,” Wade muttered under his breath. 

Psylocke was still glaring, but she unclenched her fist and dispersed the psi-blade. 

“Excuse moi,” said a suave voice with an awful French accent, as a man stepped around her. He was wearing a white full-body suit and a long white sleeveless coat, both with zig-zagging black designs, and he was wearing black gloves and boots, and had a black and white mask that covered his entire face except for his eyes.

[I have to admit, that get-up is pretty cool.] 

“Nobody asked you,” Wade hissed at himself, suddenly even more painfully aware that he wasn't wearing his suit.

“You must be Deadpool, oui?” the man said, looking at Wade like the mercenary was hardly worth notice.

 _“Yup,”_ Wade said, aiming for nonchalant. “And you're Fantomex, right?” 

“Le seul et l'unique,” Fantomex said with a shallow bow. 

The man's French accent really was atrocious.

“Votre accent français est atroce,” Wade told him. 

[Oh, yeah, our French accent is _awesome._ ]

Fantomex raised his eyebrows, looking almost impressed. “Oui, well, the fake France I was raised in in the World was imperfect.” 

Wade tilted his head. “You're Weapon XIII,” he remembered.

“En effet,” Fantomex agreed. “And you are Weapon XI.” 

“Something like that,” Wade shrugged. “Now we only need Cap and Wolvie, and we'll have a party of all the survivors.” 

“Deadpool will be joining our X-Force team,” Nathan said, looking at Fantomex, almost daring him to have a problem with that.

“Okay,” Fantomex shrugged. “As long as he's not as much of an idiot as his reputation seems to suggest that he is.” 

“I really am that much of an idiot, actually,” Wade said, sounding apologetic. 

[You worked really hard for that reputation, didn't you?] 

“Yup,” Wade nodded. 

Nathan glared at him, saying, “No, you're not,” before turning back to Fantomex and stating: “He's really not. His mind just works... differently.” 

[That's a nice way of phrasing it.]

Wade snickered. “I have divine revelation at work within me! Tis how I sometimes accurately predict the future! Even if it's an _alternate_ future, rather than _this_ one.” He scratched his chin, frowning slightly. “For some reason it's always easier to find and read the comics than it is to find and read the fanfic authors' scripts and plot plans. They tend to hide them in journals under their beads or write them on restaurant napkins.” 

“Wade,” Nathan sighed. 

“And the comic writers _always_ have plans,” Wade added. “Sometimes the fanfic writers just _improvise_ everything and don't plan anything out at _all,_ and just have faith that things will work out—which is _totally_ my kind of planning!” He grinned, trying not to rub self-consciously at his face. 

Domino rolled her eyes, Fantomex raised his eyebrows, Psylocke glared flatly, and Nathan just sighed again. 

[Feel that feeling in the air? Wafting off of everyone? That's the aroma of varying degrees of hatred and annoyance and contempt.]

“Looks like I'm going to need to get a new suit to go with the whole black-and-white theme you guys got goin' here,” Wade said, noting all their costumes (Nate wasn't wearing his outfit, but Wade assumed he'd be going with the all-black one), and talking because he really hated awkward silences, especially when they were awkward silences where everybody in a room was staring at him and he didn't have his mask. “Cool. That's cool. I could totally rock the black-and-white shit. Neena, you know that means you're gonna have to change the blue on your suit to white, right?” 

From where she was still lying on the couch, Domino just raised her eyebrows slightly without widening her eyes at all, unimpressed. 

“Hey, so, Nate,” Wade continued, turning to the taller man, gesturing around at the three others, “is this all of us? The entire team?” 

“At the present moment,” Nathan answered. 

“You know what you're missing?” Wade asked, holding up a finger. “You're missing a _science genius._ Every team needs a genius! And I know _just_ the guy!” 

“And who are you suggesting?” Nate didn't sound too excited. 

[Yeah, who _are_ you suggesting?] 

“You don't know him,” Wade told them both. “His name is Noh-Varr.” 

He looked around the room at the four blank faces staring at him. 

“Have any of you heard of Marvel Boy?” Wade asked, glancing around at them. None of them showed recognition. “Kree soldier from another dimension? Destroyed blocks of buildings in New York to spell out a giant 'FUCK YOU'? Got locked up in the supervillain penitentiary The Cube (and was let out when I got locked up in The Cube and then escaped and let out all the other prisoners there)? No?” 

Still no recognition. 

[I also have no idea who that is.]

Wade grinned brightly. “Oh, you guys are all gonna _love_ him!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**WAIT!!!**_ Before you stop reading because you're like 'Noh-Varr? Who da fuck is that?? I don't care about anyone called Noh-Varr!! I'm only here for the Cablepool!' – just give the next chapter a chance, okay? 
> 
> Translations:   
> _Oui_ – Yes  
>  _Le seul et l'unique_ – The one and only  
>  _Votre accent français est atroce_ – Your French accent is atrocious   
> _En effet_ – Indeed


	2. Expository Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Deadpool was taken by the authorities, he only put up the barest minimal of an obligatory fight. 
> 
> He was locked up in the supervillain penitentiary The Cube, and was there for three days before he escaped when the prison warden made the huge mistake of attempting to torture him and experiment on him. 
> 
> (FYI, evil people: you can't successfully torture or experiment on Deadpool. It will always come back and bite you in the ass. Oh, and you can't get him to stop talking, either. And there's also nothing you can do to keep him from breaking all the bones in your body and then cutting out your duodenum.)
> 
> So then, of course, to cover his escape and cause total chaos, Deadpool let out all the supervillain prisoners in The Cube, and slipped away when the superhero teams came to try and put a stop to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in the middle of _Attention Whore._
> 
> Warning for gore.
> 
> Oh, and more (possibly incorrect) Google Translate translations at the bottom.

* * *

**_~Several months ago, The Cube, location undisclosed~_ **

* * *

In (one of) the Cube's torture chambers, Wade stood up, holding the warden's duodenum up in front of the man's face. 

“Have you ever seen your duodenum? _Teehee, 'duodenum' is such a fun word._ Duodenum: the first part of the small intestine immediately beyond the stomach, leading to the _jejunum._ I'm sure you've seen the duodenums of aliens and supervillains and all those people you've vivisected, but isn't there just something so special about seeing your own?” 

Wade grinned pleasantly at the warden, who was a short, with pasty skin, oily hair and a bald patch on the top of his head. He also had a huge wart on his right cheek. Everything about him screamed _slimy,_ and he was really, really ugly. Uglier than Wade, even, which was definitely saying something. 

Lying crumpled on the floor with his limbs at odd angles, and with his abdominal cavity cut open, had actually _improved_ his looks, because at least the brilliant sanguine of his blood was pretty. 

Blood really was a very, very pretty color. The growing puddle of blood splashed in beautiful randomness when Wade dropped the guy's duodenum into it. 

The guy was gasping wetly. 

“You know, that sound is _really_ annoying,” Wade decided, and began throwing various scalpels and knives at the guy until the noise stopped. 

Brushing the dried blood off himself (it was his own, from when the warden had been cutting into _him_ ), Wade wandered over to the top half of his suit that the creepy warden guy had cut off him. 

Of course, it was cut apart, so it was useless. 

Wade tied it around his waist anyway, then swaggered out of the torture chamber in just his pants, mask, belt and boots. 

It was pretty easy to take care of any guards he came across—although they weren't armed _guards_ so much as evil scientist types, strangely enough, since you'd expect there to be _armed guards_ in a high-security supervillain penitentiary—and to find the room that had the controls to all the different cells, as well as some other fun stuff. 

Unfortunately, word of his escape had spread ahead of him (via the scientists' screams) and one of them had managed to set off an alarm, which was wailing loudly and causing red lights to flash everywhere, and had probably alerted the Avengers or something. (And the fact that the Avengers would come rushing to stick all the aliens and supervillains back into the Cube where they got tortured and experimented on and stuff was kind of _sad,_ Wade thought. The fact that _heroes_ condoned this type of shit. But then again, aliens and supervillains didn't exactly have human rights, now did they?)

Entering the control room, Wade first turned off the alarm because it was annoying and distracting, then he opened all the doors to the supervillain's cells, and then he grabbed the microphone for the loudspeaker. 

“Hellooooooo, this is your savior speaking! We are in full-out prison break mode! If everyone would please exit the prison in a fairly orderly fashion and not fight each other, because the Avengers or some other team like that will be here soon, and you should probably save all your fighting for them! But feel free to cause as much destruction as you want on the way out! Thank you for doing whatever you did to land yourself here in The Cube and subsequently take part in this prison break!” 

Then he strolled out, thumbs hooked in his belt, singing, “I fought the law, and the law lost!” as he went. 

While all the prisoners pushed past him, rampaging for the exits, Wade walked deeper into the prison to check the torture chambers and experiment labs, using the warden's code key card thing to scan himself in. He didn't want to leave anybody behind. It would suck to miss out on a prison break because you were strapped to table and all cut up, or something. 

Apparently the warden had reserved a long time block for Wade's torture, because nothing else seemed to have been happening. 

He didn't find anyone until he got to the last room he checked (because that's how life was, right?), which had the label _NOH-VARR_ on the door. 

“Holy _shit!”_ Wade said, mostly from lack of anything better to say, as he saw the young man suspended in the tube of greenish fluid, hooked up to all sorts of tubes and straps and stuck with all kinds of gadgets and needles, wearing nothing but a pair of tight shorts. 

“Looks like some high-tech stuff in there,” he muttered to himself as he circled the tube, trying to figure out how to get the guy out of there. “Gawd, I fucking _hate_ these test tube things, waking up in them _sucks_ and always follows and proceeds very Bad Things. Capitalized, because they're not just bad things, they're Bad Things, and I would know. I might be what you could call an _expert_ on such subjects.” 

Frowning, he came back around to the front of the test tube, crossing his arms and glaring at it. “Well, sorry Noh-Varr guy or whatever, but I'm not a genius, so I'm gonna do this the old-fashioned way, and just hope that those tubes and needles and things aren't keeping you alive, or will do something dangerous if damaged, or something.” 

With that, he tore up a piece of machinery from the floor and slammed it into the glass. 

Fractures spiderwebbed across the transparent surface. 

Another hit and the glass shattered, sharp pieces scattering everywhere, and the greenish liquid flowing out. The substance had a weird, chemical smell. 

“Can't smell any worse than I already do,” Wade shrugged, stepping into the tube and beginning to get the Noh-Varr character out of the wires and needles and tubes as carefully and quickly as possible. 

Good thing he had a lot of practice with things like that. 

The Noh-Varr guy collapsed limp and unconscious into Wade's arms. 

“Uh, is your skin supposed to look like that?” Wade asked, noticing that the guy's skin was sickly pale and looked cracked with veins of blue. The kid—he looked like a kid, actually, maybe late teens or early twenties or something—had dark eyebrows but white hair, which meant he was probably either a mutant or a Kree alien. Probably a Kree alien, given that it was the _Cube,_ supervillian penitentiary for aliens (and, apparently, Deadpools). 

“You reeeeeaaaaaallly don't look so good,” Wade informed the unconscious kid, tossing him over his shoulder and began hurrying out of the facility. “Let's get you outta here, huh? Then maybe we can see about fixing you up. And I know just the guy!”

* * *

_**~Several hours later, South Beach, Florida~** _

* * *

“Hey, Fixer!” Deadpool called, knocking on the guy's back door (he hopped over backyard fence—what? He wasn't going to knock on the front door with a sick guy slung over his shoulder!). “I want to pay you to fix something! Well, some _one,_ but—”

The door opened, and the Fixer stood there, wearing cargo shorts, a colorful Hawaiin shirt, and his crazy metal contraption thingy that strapped around his chest, and waist, and arms, and wrist, and face. 

“It's not Cable again, is it?” The Fixer asked. 

“Uh, no, it's this guy,” Deadpool said, patting the back of one of the kid's muscular thighs, since he was still kind of slung over Deadpool's shoulder. “Can I come inside so I can put him down?” 

The Fixer stepped out of the way, and Wade stepped inside (oh, and he was wearing a full suit now, because he wasn't going to be going anywhere bare-chested), setting the kid down on The Fixer's couch. 

His eyes were open, now, but they were blank, and he remained as limp and listless as if he'd been completely unconscious. 

“Who is he?” The Fixer asked, beginning to run some kind of sciencey things to figure out what was wrong. 

“I dunno, he was just a kid locked up in one of The Cube's torture chambers,” Deadpool answered. “Sign on the door said 'Noh-Varr.' And you have no _idea_ how hard it is to sneak an unconscious guy onto and off an airplane!” 

“So he's Kree,” The Fixer gathered, frowning at some of the data he'd gotten. “It seems that his body is seething with submicrotech, and that someone mangled his internal operating system with foreign code. As if by a child with a hammer.”

“So, can you fix him?” Deadpool asked. 

The Fixer scoffed. “Of _course_ I can fix it. But we have to bring him over to my work area. Oh, and how much am I being paid, by the way?” 

“One hundred down, four more if he lives,” Wade answered, as he picked up the kid and brought him over to The Fixer's work area, setting him in the metal, medical-looking chair that The Fixer indicated. “That enough to do the job?” He pulled out his phone, ready to transfer the first part of the money.

“Yeah.” The Fixer raised a dark eyebrow at him. “You really care a lot about fixing some random supervillain you know nothing about.” 

“He's a _kid,”_ Deadpool growled, crossing his arms, eyes of his mask narrowing to slits. “And there's some _nasty shit_ that goes down in The Cube, and—”

The Fixer was looking at him in what appeared to be amusement. 

“Consider it just me trying to make up for the fact that I lack a conscience most of the time,” Deadpool muttered, scuffing a shoe against the floor. 

“Well, I suppose a mercenary has to deal with the guilt of all the lives he's taken _somehow,”_ The Fixer mused, beginning to hook Noh-Varr into some equipment—some restrains to keep him from moving during the procedure, and something around his head so that his brain could be re-hacked and set straight. 

The Fixer walked over and sat at his nearby computer, fingers beginning to type at an incessant speed. “Hm. I've never seen Kree coding like this.” 

“But you can fix it,” Deadpool said. 

“Oh yeah,” The Fixer grinned, fingers flying across the keyboard. He did so love a challenge. “I can fix this.” 

“Coolio,” Deadpool said, settling into a desk chair and starting to spin around. “Wheeeeeeee!” The chair went spinning across the floor. 

“Don't you _dare_ break anything!” The Fixer growled at him without looking from the screen. 

“But you could just fix it again!” Deadpool pointed out, while spinning around on the chair so fast that a normal human would probably have already thrown up. 

“Doesn't mean I _want_ to have to fix my stuff!” The Fixer snapped. “So everything you break you have to _pay_ for!” 

“Bozhe moy,” Deadpool muttered as the chair slowed to a stop and he toppled out of it onto the floor, sprawling on his back. “U menya kruzhitsya golova. I feel dizzy. Je me sens étourdi. Me siento mareado.” 

The Fixer kept typing. “Then maybe you shouldn't have been spinning in my desk chair.” 

“But it spins!” Deadpool protested, trying to stand up, only to stumble and flop back over onto the floor. “Ugh. Why have a spinny chair if you don't spin in it?” 

“Would you _shut up!”_ The Fixer barked at him. “I can't believe I forgot how _annoying_ you are...”

“That's what everyone says,” Deadpool said from the floor. “I think people block out that part about me because it's so traumatizing. I mean, they either have to block it out or pay for PTSD therapy sessions, and let me tell you, those are _expensive!_ Dr. Bong tried to treat me for PTSD once. Turned out I didn't have any. I just really hate clowns and mimes for some reason. It was a huge waste of money.” 

_“There!”_ The Fixer announced, his typing stopping abruptly as he turned in his chair to watch Noh-Varr wake up. 

The kid blinked his eyes (they were green, now), gaze flicking around the room, landing on The Fixer in the chair in front of him, and Deadpool sitting up on the floor. 

His skin looked much better now—he wasn't so pale anymore, and his skin was smooth, no more veining cracks. 

“Noh-Varr, right?” The Fixer asked, smiling smugly. 

“Yes,” Noh-Varr said, glaring down at his restraints and tugging at them. “Where am I and what the hell is going on?” 

Deadpool got slowly to his feet, brushing off his suit. “First things first: if we unstrap you, do you promise not to attack us? Because we're the good guys—I broke you out of The Cube, and this guy here,” he jerked a thumb at The Fixer, “just fixed your broken operating system. Oh, and I killed that creepy warden guy, too, so I think I avenged you as well.” 

Noh-Varr glared. “Let me up.” 

“Promise not to hit us?” Deadpool said. “Or kick us? Or harm us in any other fashion?” 

“And please don't break anything,” The Fixer added. 

“Yeah, sure,” the kid grunted. And _wow,_ he was really like an irritable teenager. “I promise.” 

“Cool beans,” Deadpool grinned, trotting over like a bouncy (harmless) puppy, unstrapping the kid. 

Noh-Varr was up in the blink of an eye and standing on the other side of the room. 

“Whoa, you are _fast!”_ Deadpool exclaimed. 

“Explain,” Noh-Varr said, eyes narrowed. 

“I'm not getting paid for this,” The Fixer said, raising his palms. 

“One sec,” Deadpool said, holding up a finger to the kid (his _index_ finger, _not_ his middle finger—jeez! What kind of a guy do you think Deadpool _is?_ ). “I need to pay The Fixer for fixing you, and then we'll go to a bar and I'll answer all your questions—are you even old enough to get into a bar? You know what, whatever, you have white hair, they'll let you in—one moment.” 

Deadpool walked over to The Fixer and pulled out his phone, making a wire transfer of the rest of the money. 

The Fixer confirmed the transfer with a thumbs-up, and Deadpool nodded. “Pleasure doing business with you, Fixer!” he turned back to Noh-Varr, gesturing. “C'mon, Noh. Can I call you Noh? Awesome, let's go.” 

They left the back way.

* * *

_**~Fifteen minutes later, a bar in South Beach, Florida~** _

* * *

The bar was dingy, cheap, and not very clean. It was in the less nice side of town, and was one of those bars where nobody asks questions, and occasionally bar fights randomly broke out, and nobody was surprised. 

Deadpool's become something of an expert at finding those types of bars. 

Deadpool and Noh-Varr sat at the counter, each with a glass of beer. Noh-Varr had sipped his, but Deadpool hadn't touched his, realizing that, in order to drink, he'd have to lift up part of his mask, which would show some of his skin... 

“You paid that guy to fix me,” Noh-Varr stated, setting the cold glass of beer down and narrowing his eyes at the masked man. _“Why?”_

“You were in one of those creepy glass tubes floating in liquid with a bunch of tubes and needles and stuff stuck in you,” Deadpool said, glancing down into the amber liquor in his glass. “I've woken up in several test tubes like that before. It really sucks. So I thought I'd get you out. But then you were kinda unconscious and not lookin' too hot and you seemed broken so I got you fixed. I was broken once, and a friend of mine fixed me, and it was really nice to not be broken anymore, so, y'know.” 

The masked man shrugged. “'Do unto others as you'd like done unto you,' and all that. It wouldn't have been right to leave you there.” 

So some humans _did_ have a conscience. That was news to Noh-Varr. But “What were you doing in The Cube?” was all that he said. 

“Um, hey, can we move this conversation to maybe that dark table in the corner?” Deadpool asked, jerking a thumb behind him at the dark corner table that a group of people was leaving. 

“Yeah,” Noh-Varr said, eyes narrowed warily, but he followed the mercenary to the shadowed table in the corner, both of them taking one of the seats with their backs to a wall. 

“Okay, so,” Deadpool said, gloved hands around his beer glass. “I should probably start with my origin story. Hi, I'm Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool.” He waved. “I'm a mercenary and a mutate with a synthesized healing factor. I had cancer, signed up for an experimental government project that said they could fix me, but they didn't—not really. See, I still have the cancer, it's just that I'm not dying from it anymore, because I have a healing factor that keeps me from dying. The healing factor did a real number on my skin, though, and I know I look like a cross between Freddie Krueger and Ryan Reynolds.” 

Noh-Varr looked at him blankly. 

“Uh, right, you wouldn't know those references,” Deadpool said, scratching at the back of his neck through his costume. “Basically, my skin is covered with sores and ulcers, so I wear the mask so people don't scream or throw up whenever they see my face.” 

“Show me,” Noh-Varr said immediately. 

“You really don't want to see,” Deadpool told him, masked face blank. 

“I have a strong stomach,” Noh-Varr said, and for some reason his lips twitched minutely. “And I don't trust anyone in a mask. You want me to trust you? Show me.” 

“Once you see my face, you can't _un_ see my face,” Deadpool warned. 

“You know, the only other human I've really talked to also wouldn't show me her face at first because she thought she was scarred and ugly,” Noh-Varr said, sounding amused, probably thinking that humans were strange creatures indeed. “It turned out that she wasn't.” 

Deadpool scoffed. “Yeah, that's not gonna be happening with me.” But he reached up and pulled his mask off, staring at the kid challengingly. 

Noh-Varr sat back in his chair, nodding. “That's much better than staring at your mask.” 

Wade looked at him, head tilted. “You're a Kree, right?” 

“I'm a member of the 18th Kree Diplomatic Gestalt, genome-boosted with insect traits,” Noh-Varr said.

“So you can walk on walls and stuff?” Wade asked, perking up. 

“Yes.” 

“I've always wanted to be able to do that,” Wade grinned. “So. Kree with insect DNA.” 

“I'm also from a different dimension, where there is transcendental peace and universal enlightenment,” Noh-Varr said. He took another sip of the beer, not making any facial indication of what he thought of the taste. “I was a member of a team of heroes aboard the dimension-schooner ' _Marvel._ '” 

“ _'Marvel,'_ huh?” Wade said, snickering. “You wouldn't get why, but that's _hilarious._ ” 

Noh-Varr just stared at him for a moment, before continuing, “We danced across dimensions, defied the odds to cross two hundred million realities only to be shot down over this pre-historic _mudball._ My parents incinerated in the epiphany fire, a halo of cosmic dust. Everyone else, dead, dissected...” he glared at his beer. 

“So Earth made a bad first impression, huh?” Wade said, making a face. “Yeah, hate to say it, but this world is pretty fucked up, and so are most of the people in it, myself included.”

Noh-Varr looked at him. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing at the Cube?” 

Deadpool took a large swig of his beer, setting it back down on the table with a _thunk._ “I mentioned that I'm a mercenary, right? So I got hired to kill this guy, and I did, but it turned out that he'd been the host to some evil, demonic creature, which then got out of the dead guy and wrought a bunch of havoc and chaos and mayhem and shit, and went on a rampage in New York City, and ate a ton of people, and it was one huge, piping hot mess, and the Avengers and the Fantastic Four got involved, but this monster was crazy big and crazy powerful, and then it ripped a whole in the timestream.” 

Noh-Varr's dark eyebrows raised, a stark contrast against the locks of white hair that fell into his face.

“We defeated it, but I got arrested and sent to the Cube,” Wade shrugged. “I escaped when that warden creep tried to torture me. Then I let all the prisoners out to cover my own escape. But I also went back through the torture chambers and stuff to make sure nobody got left behind, because, well, I've been there. That government organization that gave me the healing factor? It was pretty nasty. Worse than The Cube. The Cube was nothing compared to Weapon Plus.” 

Noh-Varr was giving him a strange look. 

“So,” Wade said quickly, pointing at the Kree, “why were _you_ in The Cube, then?”

“I burned down buildings in New York to spell out 'Fuck You' from a satellite view, and I declared war on Earth,” the kid said, with a completely straight face. 

Wade sputtered on his beer, coughing and hitting his chest. “Seriously?!” he choked out.

“Yes,” Noh-Varr said. 

“You seriously gave New York a 'Fuck You' tattoo?!” 

“Yes.” 

“And you declared war on Earth?!” 

“Yes.” 

“The _entire_ Earth?!” 

The Kree still looked calm and nonchalant as fuck. “Yes.” 

Wade just stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before he started laughing. “That. Is. Awesome! I like you already!” 

“That's not what S.H.I.E.L.D. thought,” Noh-Varr said wryly. 

Wade snorted. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is a bunch of lame-o's. _You,”_ he pointed at the Kree, “are a _badass.”_

Noh-Varr blinked, frowning. “You _want_ me to take over the Earth? I mean, I was going to turn it into a _paradise,_ but Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Stephen Strange, and Namor didn't seem to like that.” 

By this time, Wade was collapsed over the table, laughing into his folded arms. 

“You know,” he snickered, sitting up and wiping at his eyes, “my _best friend_ tried to change the world and turn it into a paradise, too. It didn't work. In fact, it failed catastrophically. And he's an Omega-Level telepath and telekenetic—or at least, he was at the time—from the _future.”_

Noh-Varr was frowning at him. “You're saying?” 

Sobering, Wade met the kid's gaze. “I'm _saying_ that you can't _force_ the world to change. Things have to happen _organically,_ or they won't stick. Humans don't evolve that fast.” He shrugged, looking down at his glass, tapping his gloved fingers along the surface, wiping away the condensation. “So all you can do is try to help the world as best you can, if you're a cool person like my best friend. Or, in my case, just try not to fuck it up too much.” 

“Who's your friend?” Noh-Varr asked curiously. 

“Nathan Dayspring Askani'son Summers,” Wade rattled off. 

Noh-Varr blinked. “That's a long name.” 

“I know, right?” Wade snickered, before taking another drink of his beer. “Mostly he just goes by 'Cable,' though. And we're kinda not friends any more.” 

Noh-Varr watched him. 

“But we're not quite enemies like we were in the beginning,” Wade continued, staring down into his glass, biting at his lower lip. “But then we kinda became friends, mostly out of necessity since we had both been dying and the only way we could live was for me to give him my healing factor and him to give me his T-O, so we kind of ended up combining body fluids in a really non-sexy way—as in my body had gone _bloop_ and he was paralyzed with metal and he kind of used his TK to swallow me, and then he threw me up and I reformed, and it was pretty gross. 

“He had this teleportation matrix thing, and since we shared DNA and stuff, whenever he teleported anywhere I would get teleported with him because the matrix thought we were the same person.

“Anyways, so his TK and TP had gotten so strong that he could read the minds of everybody on Earth—except for mine, because my healing factor makes my mind telepathy-proof—and he created this giant floating metal island with his _mind,_ which he could keep levitating even when he was _sleeping,_ and he created a nation called Providence that was like an experiment to create paradise, and was full of granola-eating pacifists, and it was really kinda other-wordly what he managed to do to the society there. 

“But like everybody in the world wanted to stop him, and then the Silver Surfer came and gave him a bit of a beating, and his powers were too crazy and were killing him so I helped out lobotomized him, and then I saved his life with an alien T-O baby, and we were basically friends after that. 

“I lived on Providence for a while, up until I killed the world's most wanted terrorist, and then I got thrown out.” 

“What was wrong with killing the world's most wanted terrorist?” Noh-Varr asked. 

Wade gave a one-shouldered shrug. “The guy had been on Providence, trying to 'reform' or whatever. Violence wasn't allowed on the island, and Nate had the guns to make it stick.”

The Kree nodded thoughtfully. “Like Halla.” 

“Hella what?” Wade asked, a hairless eyebrow raised. 

“My homeworld,” Noh-Varr said. “Our creed does not translate well into human terms, but... probably the best translation would be _zen facism.”_

Wade snickered. “Yeah, that is _exactly_ the kind of world Nate was trying to create. Except, y'know, human rather than Kree. But yeah, that was basically the idea.” 

Noh-Varr looked thoughtful. “Nathan 'Cable' Dayspring Askani'son Summers sounds like a man far ahead of the rest of your race.” 

“Yeah, he is,” Wade agreed, smiling down at the amber liquid in his glass. “He's pretty great. He can be a really putz sometimes, especially when it comes to details, but, well. He has a greater world view—he doesn't think in terms of the present, he thinks in terms of millennia, and does what he thinks is best for the _future_ and for the _greater good._

“And I know that, I just...” he sighed. “I wish he paid a little more attention to us smaller people, y'know? Because I'd like to see him more, but he's always too busy saving the world and shit.” 

“What happened to Providence?” Noh-Varr asked. 

“It got destroyed by something called the Hecatomb,” Wade said, shrugging again. “It ate minds and devoured souls, and was an X-Men problem or something. I wasn't actually there for that—Nate and I had had a divorce during the Civil War, so we weren't really tight at the time. I only came to help after the Hecatomb had been defeated, and I kept Sabretooth busy and then I got Nate's back-up bypass before baddies could grab it. Then he teleported me off the island before he blew it up—he didn't want anyone to get his secrets from the future—with him still on it.  
“So we kinda made up there at the end, but then he died, but then it turned out that he didn't actually die, and he didn't even bother to tell me.” Wade glared at his beer before taking another large swig. 

“At least he's not _actually_ dead,” Noh-Varr pointed out, catching the mercenary's gaze. “Everybody _I_ ever cared about is dead now.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Wade muttered, glancing away, tapping his fingers on his glass. He looked back at the kid, offering, “Is whoever's responsible for deaths still alive, and if so, do you want me to kill them for you?” 

Noh-Varr shook his head. “Midas was flattened beneath the floorboards of reality.” 

“Sounds exciting,” Wade grinned wryly. He tilted his head as he regarded the young Kree, asking, “So, what are you going to do now?” 

Noh-Varr paused for a moment. “I don't know,” he admitted, glancing at Wade. “But I think that... I think I'd like to be a superhero.” 

“Good for you, kid,” Wade grinned, raising his beer to him, before taking another swig. _“I_ could never do it, but I bet you could. I have _faith_ that you can, actually.” He smiled down at his glass, like he was remembering something bittersweet. 

“Thank you?” Noh-Varr hazarded. 

Wade grinned and patted him on the arm. “No prob, kid.” 

“Would you stop calling me 'kid'?” the Kree said irritably. 

“Nope,” Wade said, taking another drink. “It's either that or 'bub,' anyways.” 

“So what are _you_ going to do, now?” Noh-Varr asked. 

Wade's smile was bitter, and he didn't look at him. “Probably do something stupid. Be an anti-hero. Fuck some things up. Kill some people. Annoy some more people. Talk off ears and chop off heads. The usual. Maybe try to get my ex-best-friend's attention in exactly the wrong way.” 

“Okay,” Noh-Varr said, confused. 

They finished their drinks in silence. 

“Well!” Wade declared, setting down his empty glass and pulling his mask back on, standing up. “I have to go now. I have an appointment to keep with stupidity.” 

Noh-Varr's brow furrowed. “What?” 

“Nevermind,” Wade said, waving a hand dismissively. “But, here,” he pulled a piece of paper out of one of his pouches, handing it to the Kree, saying, “that's my phone number, just in case. Call me if you need help killing anybody, hiding any bodies, or figuring out where to start in your pop culture education, or if you get lost in the underworld, or anything.” 

He rooted around in his pouches again. “And here,” he said, taking out a wad of bills and tossing the lump of money onto the table. “You'll need that, too, because you need money unless you plan on stealing everything, and if you keep stealing eventually you'll get caught, so buy stuff when you can.” 

Noh-Varr pocketed the number and the money, tucking them into one of the pockets on the long jacket that Wade had given him to wear over his green, white, and yellow suit. 

“Here, I'll walk you out,” Deadpool offered. “Don't need you accidentally getting into any bar fights. Not that you couldn't handle yourself, because you definitely look like you could—but it's best not to attract too much attention after breaking out of a high-security prison, y'know?” 

So they walked out of the bar together, pausing out on the sidewalk. It was dark, now, but the air was still warm and humid. 

“Okay, well, if you want to be a musician, you go to Nashville, Tennessee,” Deadpool said, gesturing with a hand. “But if you want to be a superhero, then New York City is the place to be. That's where all the big stuff goes down. If you want to lay low in the superhero community, go anywhere _but_ New York City. Kapeesh?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Noh-Varr said. 

“Good,” Deadpool grinned, patting his shoulder. “I'll probably see you later, kid—superheroes, supervillains, and anti-heroes all have a habit of colliding with each other on a pretty regular basis.” 

Then he turned and left, whistling as he went. 

And that was Noh-Varr's first interaction with a human being that neither feared him nor wanted to hurt him in some way. 

Maybe humans weren't _all_ bad. At least this one actually had a conscience, and would readily admit that he was an idiot who fucked stuff up. Definitely preferable over the humans who were so idiotic they thought they knew everything and had everything under control, when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Noh-Varr definitely had a lot to learn about humans, though, since he was trapped on their rotten world for the forseeable future with no way home.

* * *

**_~Two weeks later~_ **

* * *

Wade was in the middle of battling one of those huge red demons with the curling horns when his cellphone vibrated. 

He tucked one of his katanas away in its scabbard on his back, continuing to fight the demon with one sword while he pulled out his phone with his free hand, clicking the 'answer' button and putting it to his ear. “Hello, this is Deadpool: The Last Demon Hunter!” 

_“This is Noh-Varr,”_ came a young, familiar voice. 

“Noh-Varr, my buddy!” Deadpool greeted cheerful, flipping up onto the demon's shoulders and try to cut its horns off. “What can I do you for you?” 

_“I'm frustrated. I just don't understand humans. I don't know what they want. As a species.”_

Cutting off the demon's horns wasn't working, so Deadpool decided to stab it in the eyes instead. 

_“The customs in which I was raised... my people... our society had refined itself to perfection. Our goals as Kree are so perfect and noble that from my perspective I can't tell what the human race wants...”_

Deadpool stuck his sword up under the demon's chin, stabbing it up through the brain. 

_“Do they want love? Hate? War? Peace? Do they want all of these things at the same time? It can't be done. You can't have contrary desires. Can you?”_

Deadpool probably would have said that, yes, he had contrary desires all the time. Such as wanting to punch Nate in the face and also wanting to kiss him. At the same time.

But Noh-Varr didn't give him time to answer, continuing, _“No. You can't.”_

Yeah, it would be pretty hard to actually kiss Nate while punching him in the face as well. Wade really didn't have to pick one—picking was just giving him difficulties. 

_“They say they want peace but they don't seem to try to accomplish it in any way. I don't know what they want. I don't understand why they act the way they do.”_

“So, _what_ do you need my help with?” Deadpool asked in bemusement, even as he flipped off the dead demon that was collapsing to the ground, brandishing his sword at the cowering evil priests to silently warn them not to move or he would chop them to bits. 

_“What do humans_ want?” asked Noh-Varr, a hint of desperation in his tone. 

“Have you heard the song 'Sweet Dreams' by Eurythmics?” Deadpool asked. 

_“No...? I haven't listened to any of humanity's 'songs.'”_

“Listen to that song,” Deadpool told him. “It basically tells what humans want, and how to deal with that, because humans are pretty corrupt but you can't let 'em get ya down. Oh! Also, listen to the song 'Savages' by Marina and the Diamonds. That's a good one for understanding the human dilemma.” 

_“Okay...”_ said Noh-Varr hesitantly, before hanging up. 

“Now,” Deadpool said, turning to the cowering priests and drawing his second katana, grinning threateningly behind his mask. “I need some answers from you...”

* * *

**_~One week later~_ **

* * *

Deadpool was sneaking through a ghost town that housed a dark church somewhere, and he was following the clues when his phone vibrated. 

Fishing it out, he answered quietly, “'Lo? Deadpool here, yo.” 

_“Music is humankind's greatest invention!”_ Noh-Varr's voice was brimming with excitement.

“Music's up there with duct tape and katanas, sure,” Deadpool said, creeping around the side of an abandoned building. 

_“My dimension has transcendental peace and universal enlightenment, but there are no close harmony girl groups. I can't believe your backwards, corrupt society can make something so wonderful! Music is amazing!”_

The kid's excitement, Deadpool thought, deserved multiple exclamation points, and probably some extremely happy emoticons as well. He was having a hard time imagining what kind of smile the kid must be wearing to accompany his glee. 

Noh-Varr spent the next half hour telling Deadpool all about the merits of every single kind of music he'd listened to since Deadpool had told him about 'Sweet Dreams' and 'Savages', and how much he'd learned about humans by listening to their music. It was kind of nice, since it kept Deadpool from getting so bored he started singing or talking to himself, and the goal was to be quiet since he was on a stealth mission. 

“Have you ever considered becoming a DJ?” Deadpool asked him finally, tucking his cellphone between his ear and shoulder as he climbed up a drainage pipe onto a roof, taking his phone back into his hand as he stood up to look around over the ghost town. 

_“What's a deejay?”_

Deadpool turned, scanning his surroundings. “A disc jockey. Someone who plays recorded music for an audience, either a radio audience if the mix is broadcast, or the audience in a venue such as a bar or nightclub, which is usually an audience of drunk dancers.” 

_“I hadn't considered it.”_

“You might want to look into it. It seems like something you might be interested in.” 

There was a smile in Noh-Varr's voice as he said, _“I'll look into it.”_

* * *

_**~Several weeks later~** _

* * *

Noh-Varr hadn't called again.

No news was good news, but Deadpool still wanted to check on the kid before he attacked New York and messed up the timestream and hopefully got himself killed. 

The number that Noh-Varr had called him from had been encrypted, but Deadpool had simply had Weasel hack it. 

Weasel had had a hard time, but he'd managed it. 

“Hey, Noh-Varr!” Deadpool said as he milled about in his apartment. 

Noh-Varr sounded surprised. _“Hello, Wade.”_

“I'm about to do something incredibly stupid in order to get Nate's undivided attention—so when you hear the news about New York getting attacked and there being a little itty bitty tear in the timestream, don't worry about it, Nate will fix it—and I wanted to call you first and make sure that things are going well for you.” 

_“You're planning on attack New York and ripping a hole in the timestream in order to get your ex-Best-Friend's attention?”_

“Um,” Deadpool scuffed a boot against the carpeting, “yeah. Pretty much.” 

_“That's stupid.”_

“I know.” 

_“It also seems counter-productive, if you want to be friends with him again.”_

“I've kiiinda given up on that.” 

_“That doesn't make sense.”_

“I usually don't make sense,” Deadpool told him. “Don't worry about it. How are you?” 

_“I'm good!”_ Noh-Varr's definitely sounded like he was grinning. _“I'm working as a deejay in Providence, Rhode Island.”_

Deadpool barked a surprised laugh. “Providence, eh? Coolio. What's your DJ name?” 

_“Intergalactic Planetary.”_

Deadpool kept a straight face for all of three seconds before he started laughing. 

_“What? What's funny about that?”_

“You are _hilariously_ awesome,” Deadpool told him. “How many supervillains have you had to beat up over in Rhode Island?” 

_“Four.”_

“I honestly can't believe that most supervillains always attack New York, when they know that that's where most of the superhero teams are,” Deadpool said, shaking his head. 

_“If most of the supervillain activity is in New York, then it makes sense that most of the superheroes would be there as well.”_

“But are the superheroes there because the supervillains are, or are the supervillains there because the superheroes are?” Deadpool asked, pointing in front of him, as if he was talking to the kid face-to-face rather than over the phone. 

_“A good question. I'll think about it.”_

Deadpool snickered. “Well, I gotta go. Take care, Noh. Rhyme totally intentional!” 

_“Please try not to be too stupid when you're messing with the timestream. The balance of the space-time continuum is not wisely messed with, and though most disturbances are akin to stones thrown into a river, the timestream can be broken.”_

“I'm just throwing a tiny pebble in,” Deadpool said, miming throwing a pebble. “I promise. And besides—Nate will fix it!” He grinned behind his mask. 

_“You are an moronic human being.”_

“There's one problem with that statement,” Deadpool said, holding up a finger. 

_“No, you are definitely a moron.”_

“Yeah,” Deadpool agreed. “But I'm hardly human.”

 _“Your DNA may be altered, but you are as human as I am Kree. Even though I am genome-boosted with the DNA of a cockroach, I am still very much Kree, just as you are very much human despite your healing factor. Your healing factor is just a modification of an X-gene. And even 'mutants,' as you call humans with X-genes, are still_ human.” 

“You know what?” Deadpool said, grinning to himself. “Stay awesome, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_WAIT!!!_** For all those who are like 'What da fuck was this chapter?! I want _Cablepool!!'_ and have been impatient for Nate and Wade to _finally_ kiss already – read the next chapter! Nate and Wade finally get together, I promise! 
> 
> Translations:  
> (Russian) _Bozhe moy_ – Oh my God  
>  (Russian) _U menya kruzhitsya golova_ – I feel dizzy  
>  (French) _Je me sens étourdi_ – I feel dizzy  
>  (Spanish) _Me siento mareado_ – I feel dizzy


	3. Providence, Aliens, Idiots and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> X-Force goes to recruit Noh-Varr at his DJ job in Providence, Rhode Island. 
> 
> And Nate and Wade finally kiss (and maybe do a little bit more, too). _Finally!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Noh-Varr. Just sayin'. This all actually happened because I had the thought that Noh-Varr (who's been a Dark Avenger, an Avenger, and a Young Avenger, and never really fit in on any of the teams) would be awesome in a black ops team. 
> 
> That's honestly the main reason why _Wish I Didn't Love You_ ended up with a sequel. And then another sequel. And another and anoooooother… the focus is still Cablepool, of course, but Noh-Varr has kinda provided the catalyst for a lot of the plot. 
> 
> So everybody should be blaming/thanking Noh-Varr for the entire rest of this series XD

* * *

_**~Now, Providence, Rhode Island~** _

* * *

The sky was as dark as it ever got over a large, light-polluted city, and the throb of bass oozing out of all the nightclubs that X-Force was walking by and permeating the air. 

Because they were in the nightlife part of the city and people were wearing costumes and crazy outfits anyways, X-Force could walk along in their X-Force get-up without any strange glances. Psylocke especially fit right in.

“Providence,” Nate muttered under his breath as they walked. “This Kree you're taking us to recruit is the _DJ of a nightclub in Providence.”_

“I know, right?” Wade grinned, freely oggling all the beautiful women (and some of the men) around them, who were all at least drunk enough not to be bothered by getting oggled by some random guy in a full body suit costume, and were all probably partying hard enough not to notice, anyway. 

[They're not who we're trying to get the attention of, anyway.]

Deadpool turned his head over his shoulder to give Nate a masked smile.

Most of the X-Force team was blasé, but Nate seemed to be in a foul way, body held stiffly, face set in a glower, and every time Wade looked back, the wannabe-messiah always seemed to be glaring at him.

[He's totally jealous.] 

“Yeah _right,”_ Wade snorted to himself, turning back to look where he was going so he didn't walk into any drunk college kids—and also so he could find the nightclub that Noh-Varr was working. He didn't know which nightclub it was—the kid had never said—but Wade was sure he'd know it when he saw it (or heard it). 

He watched a busty woman walk past. 

“Wade!” Nate snapped. “Focus on the mission, will you?!” 

[Yup, he is _totally_ jealous. And if you'd been focusing, you would have noticed.]

“I _am_ focusing,” Wade protested. 

[Then how did you miss the fact that Nate keeps oggling your ass?] 

_“Whaaaat?”_ Wade said, whirling around to narrow his eyes at Nate—and something over Nate's left shoulder caught his eye. 

“Aha!” Wade cried, lighting up as he caught sight of a nightclub across the street with a neon Saturn above the door that was throbbing with the sounds of a rave remix of a Beastie Boy song blended with the song 'Take it Off' by Ke$ha. “That's him!” 

And then Wade ran across the street, not looking both ways beforehand and thus almost getting hit by a couple cars, but he just vaulted over the hoods and kept going as if he hadn't even noticed. 

“WADE!” Nate called after him, but Wade was already slipping into the club and crossing the glitter-covered dancefloor, sweaty drunken dancers seeming to part to make way, closing the spaces back up again as soon as he'd passed. 

Noh-Varr was standing at the DJ station, shirtless and wearing green and black headphones, a content smile on his face as he did his disc jockey stuff.

“Noh-Varr!” he cried as he reached the DJ, pulling the white-haired boy into a hug. 

Noh-Varr blinked, startled, as Wade let him go and stood there bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning. 

“Hello, Wade,” Noh-Varr said, moving the headphones down around his neck. “I heard you were dead.” 

“I don't really stay dead,” Wade shrugged. He looked around the dark club, the colorful lights and the gyrating bodies. “Looks like you're doing well!” 

“Yeah,” Noh-Varr agreed, nodding his head to the music as he smiled to himself. 

Deadpool turned his gaze back to the Kree. “Ever think you'd still like to get in on the superhero gig?” 

“Sometimes,” Noh-Varr admitted, and he frowned slightly. “And if what I think is coming is, then I won't have a choice.” 

[Did I see foreshadowing there? I did! I did see foreshadowing there!]

Wade grinned behind the black and white mask with the red eyes. “Well, if you want a job saving the world in secret with a kickass black ops team, we're here to recruit you!” he spread his arms extravagantly. 

“We?” Noh-Varr asked, raising a dark eyebrow. 

_“We,”_ Nate agreed, coming up behind Wade and putting a hand [possessively!] on the mercenary's shoulder. 

Fantomex, Psylocke, and Domino appeared next to them, as well. 

Noh-Varr's green gaze flicked across them before landing on Nate, and the Kree tilted his head, gesturing at the mutant with his chin. “That's the Nathan 'Cable' Dayspring Askani'son Summers messiah you were telling me about.” 

“Yup!” Wade grinned. 

“You told him about me?” Nate said, glancing down at Deadpool with a confused frown. 

“'Course I did,” Wade snorted. 

[We're only _kind of in love with you._ No biggie.]

“It was admirable what you tried to do with your sovereign nation of Providence,” Noh-Varr told the towering mutant. “I'm sorry that it failed. I think I would have liked to live there. Aside from the music, this human world is scum.” 

Nate was almost an entire foot taller than the Kree, and almost two-hundred pounds heavier, a broad-shouldered mountain of muscle and metal, but the much slighter male didn't seem intimidated or cowed in the least. 

And Nate was looking especially scary, with his left eye flashing in the dark club, the scars over his right eye cast in eerie shadows. 

But nope—Noh-Varr was totally unfazed. 

[I love this kid already!] 

“Told you,” Wade murmured to himself. 

“You had some good ideas, but your methods could have been better,” Noh-Varr continued. 

Nate narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Noh comes from a dimension of transcendental peace and universal enlightenment,” Wade informed Nate, turning to get out of the larger man's grip and to poke him in the fleshy side, smirking. “So he basically came from a world like the one you were trying to build.” 

Nate glanced down at the mercenary, before turning his gaze back to the Kree. “Wade tells us that you are a technological genius.” 

“I have knowledge of technology and weaponry far beyond anything that has been invented in this dimension,” Noh-Varr told him, expression supercilious. “Being in this dimension for me is akin to if you were stranded in the times of the cavemen.” 

Nate was getting a strange expression on his face, and Wade snickered. “Yes, Priscilla, the kid _is_ smarter than you. Has more understanding of the space-time continuum, too.” 

“I make up for it with my lack of understanding of human nature,” Noh-Varr offered calmly, though the corner of his lips quirked as if he was fighting off a smirk. He looked at Nate thoughtfully. “You have a strong chronal signature, from both the past and the future.” 

“I've done a fair amount of time-traveling, yes,” Nate said. 

Noh-Varr shook his head. “Time-travel is impossible because the time-traveler has changed. That's basic multidimensional cadet theory. You haven't time-traveled—you've been living in time nonlinearly. Your past is the the future of this world, and yet, the future of this world will not be your past, because your coming back in time—among other things that have happened—has changed it. There are many possible realities within each dimension—there is simply one that has the strongest signature. But that doesn't mean the others haven't happened or won't happen.” 

[INSTA-HEADACHE!]

“Kree: 1. Humans: 0,” Wade said, snickering.

Nate stared at the Kree, unimpressed. “I know that.” 

“I like him,” Domino declared, and she was definitely smirking. “Can we keep him?” 

“I _told_ you he was awesome!” Wade grinned.

Fantomex's eyes were narrowed at the Kree. “I do not know that I like his attitude.” 

“You just don't like the idea of not being the most arrogant jerk on the team,” Domino snorted. 

[Ooh, burn!] 

“Burn!” Wade agreed. 

Fantomex glared at him.

“Psylocke?” Nate asked, keeping his gaze on Noh-Varr, who'd put his headphones back on to start deejaying again. 

“I can't get a good read on him,” she said, a couple fingers to her temple. “Most of his thoughts are in a different language, and his mind seems to be... _multidimensional. _He's definitely _not___ human.” 

“He's Kree,” Wade reminded her. 

She glared at him. 

[Why is everybody always glaring at us? Because don't look now, Nate is glaring at us, too.]

“He hasn't _stopped_ glaring at us this entire mission,” Wade pointed out quietly to himself. “You'd almost think he didn't _want_ to recruit a Kree supergenius.” 

[Well, he _does_ like to think he's the smartest one around...] 

“Word,” Wade agreed. 

Domino, who was standing closest to him and the only one who could hear his mutterings, turned to glare at him. 

[Four for four! Score!] 

Nevertheless, Wade mimed zipping his lips. 

[Fucking _hate_ mimes.]

“Me, too,” Wade agreed, after quickly un-zipping his lips. 

Pursing her lips, Domino turned to Nate, asking, “Is it just me, or does Wade seem _more_ insane, now?” 

“It's not just you,” Nate said stiffly. 

“Oy!” Deadpool said, gesturing at himself. “I'm standing right _here,_ y'know!” 

“I've set up a music queue for the rest of the night,” Noh-Varr said, taking his headphones off again and turning back to them. “Nobody will miss me.” 

“Awesome!” Wade said, grabbing the kid's arm and starting to drag him out of the club. “Then let's go! You can send in your formal resignation by email!”

* * *

_**~Ten minutes later, still Providence, Rhode Island~** _

* * *

“He's angrier than I thought a messiah who tried to change the world would be,” Noh-Varr noted as he and Deadpool walked a few paces behind Nate. 

The green, white, and gold shorts Noh-Varr had been wearing had grown over his body like liquid metal so that he was no wearing a full-body suit. The colors had also changed to black and white, which was, face it, pretty awesome. 

“Well, he kind of _failed_ to change the world,” Deadpool said. He gestured at the hard line of Nate's tense shoulders. “Hence, the grumpy cat.” 

“Nah, that's just how he gets whenever he has to deal with Wade,” Domino drawled. 

“Especially when he has to deal with Wade oggling people,” Psylocke added, voice tranquil.

“Fantomex was oggling, too!” Deadpool huffed, pointing accusingly at the other Weapon Plus soldier.

“Ah, but I was only oggling Betsy,” Fantomex said, sending a leer the telapath's way. “And our attraction is _mutuel.”_

“I _will_ punch you,” Psylocke told him evenly. “And it _will_ hurt.” 

“Ooh, _spurn!”_ Deadpool snickered. 

“She is still in denial,” Fantomex said airily, waving a hand. “But our love _will_ prévaloir.” 

“I don't think _Betsy's_ the one in love who's in denial,” Domino snorted, sending a look at the back of Nathan's head. “ _Boys_ are the oblivious ones.” 

“I am not oblivious!” Fantomex huffed. 

Domino rolled her eyes. 

Meanwhile, Noh-Varr had turned to Wade. 

“I'm glad you came and found me when you did,” Noh-Varr said to him. “I had been thinking about going to the Avengers, but I didn't think they'd believe me.” 

“Believe you what compromised how?” Deadpool asked. 

[Gesundheit!] 

“I have reason to believe that the Skrulls are planning to invade Earth,” Noh-Varr said, lips curling into a fierce sneer. “They've probably already begun their infiltration.” 

“Skrulls—those are the shapeshifting green aliens with the wrinkled chins, right?” Deadpool said, right before crashing into Nate, who had stopped and whirled around. “Oomph!” 

Nate automatically put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, but his gaze was on Noh-Varr. _“What?”_ he demanded. 

Noh-Varr met his gaze evenly, the sneer still on his face, crinkling his nose and baring his teeth. “The _Skrulls_ are invading Earth.” 

“How do you know?” Nate demanded. 

“Come back to my apartment, and I'll show you my equipment,” Noh-Varr said. 

“Noh, buddy, I'm saying this as a friend,” Deadpool said, pointing a finger at him. “You _really_ need to work on your pick-up lines.”

* * *

_**~Ten minutes later, Noh-Varr's apartment, Providence, Rhode Island~** _

* * *

Noh-Varr's apartment was filled with technology—strange gadgets and machines and wires on the floor, walls, ceiling, and what looked like random pieces of junk scattered everywhere.

Among the massive mess of gadgetry was a fairly recognizable laptop, though it was connected to so many wires that it gave the appearance of a medical test subject on the verge of death that was barely being kept alive. 

[That's a great mental image.] 

“Thanks!” Wade said, poking at a strange contraption on a tripod with a many-armed contraption above it on the ceiling. “Hey, Noh, is there anything in here that will blow up if I poke it?” 

“No,” Noh-Varr said, opening the laptop and beginning to type something, fingers flying across the keyboard at blurring, inhuman speed. 

[But not _Inhuman._ Although the Inhumans are the result of genetic experiments on early humans by the Kree, right?]

“I was monitoring Kree transmissions,” Noh-Varr said, opening and closing windows on the computer so fast that it was like watching digital popcorn popping and then collapsing in rewind, “when I came across a conversation about the Skrulls, and how there was a Skrull armada headed toward Earth. A Kree commander was asking the Supreme Intelligence what course of action to take, but the Supreme Intelligence basically said that it wasn't the Kree's problem. After that, I started scanning Earth for signs of Kree technology.” 

“And you did all this from your _apartment?”_ Domino asked incredulously, glancing around the small space. It was a pretty crappy apartment. 

“It took me days, sometimes weeks to find all the parts I needed,” Noh-Varr said. “But yes.” He pulled up something on the screen and gestured for them to look. 

Deadpool continued walking around the apartment, being nosy, while the rest of X-Force looked over Noh-Varr's shoulders at the screen. 

“I have detected the presence of non-shifted Skrulls, as well as the signature of Skrull technology, though I have not yet been able to accurately locate them,” Noh-Varr was saying, gesturing at the screen. “I don't know what they're planning, but this much Skrull presence on Earth is _not_ a good sign.”

“If we can find even _one_ Skrull, we can get answers,” Deadpool said, picking up a metal ball with colorful blinking lights on it and turning it over curiously in his hands. 

[Ooh, shiny!]

“Just about every one of us has a Master's Degree in Extracting Information From Uncooperative Individuals,” Deadpool said. “Hey, what does this do?” He tossed the metal up into the air, catching it. 

“That is a rudimentary hypnotic spectra-based distractor,” Noh-Varr answered. 

[The hell?!] 

“Yeah, the hell?!” Deadpool said, tossing it from hand to hand, unable to take his eyes off the colorful flashing lights. 

“Basically, it's a fancy cat toy,” Noh-Varr translated. 

“Ooh, cool!” Deadpool said, spinning it on his finger so that the colored lights streamed into lines. “Do you think it would work on Sabretooth?” 

[I think it's working on _you._ ]

“Oops,” Deadpool said, though he kept playing with the blinking metal sphere. 

“Can you locate any of the Skrulls?” Nate asked. 

“I'd need better technology,” the Kree answered. “But if I had access to better materials, then yes, I could. As long as they weren't copying anyone's DNA.” 

“How do we know if he's even telling the truth about all this Skrull business?” Fantomex said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at the alien. 

Noh-Varr blinked at him. “You think I'm lying.” 

“You _could_ be,” Fantomex said. 

“ _Why_ would I lie about this? What would I get out of it?” Noh-Varr asked, raising his dark eyebrows. He gestured at the screen, which Deadpool was still not in a position to see. “And why would I got to all the trouble of _faking data_ , when I had no idea you would be coming to recruit me?” 

“He has a point,” Domino said. 

“He's not lying,” Psylocke said, meeting Fantomex's eyes, and then Cable's. “I can tell that much.” 

“I am Kree,” Noh-Varr huffed. “Lying is not in my nature. Though I guess I cannot blame you for such a suspicion, when it seems that lying is an intrinsic part of _human_ nature.” 

“Yeah, yeah, enough of the 'superior Kree intellect' already,” Domino said, rolling her eyes. 

Nate glanced around the apartment. “Can you move your equipment to our X-Force base?” he asked the Kree. 

“I could, but it would be easier to just build new equipment,” Noh-Varr said, fingers typing across the keyboard again. “And I need better materials, anyway.” 

“We can get you all the materials you need,” Nate said confidently. 

Deadpool was so distracted by the metal cat toy that when X-Force left, Nate had to grab his arm and drag him out the door. 

And then, since Wade kept playing with the distractor almost obsessively, Nate had to confiscate it, though he seemed amused at Wade's antics. 

He quickly became serious and cold again, though.

* * *

_**~Several hours later, the X-Force base~** _

* * *

Noh-Varr was kneeling on the floor, building new, better equipment from the parts that X-Force had acquired on their way back to their base, having split up into to get the different items. (Fantomex had gotten the most interesting job—he got to steal something from a Stark Industries storage warehouse.)

Now, though, they were all back at the base, and watching Noh-Varr work because it was the best entertainment at the moment. 

Well, Fantomex was also hitting on Psylocke, and just refusing to get the hint that she wasn't interested.

Domino was cleaning her guns. 

And Wade was watching Nate, who was pacing as he made business calls, trying to gather any other information on the Skrulls that he could. 

Sighing, he ended a call with Irene Merryweather. 

“Nate,” Wade said, getting up from where he'd been leaning in a corner and playing with a knife, sheathing the weapon. 

Nate turned away from him. 

“Naaaaaate,” Wade said more insistently. Nate tried to leave the room, but Wade grabbed his arm, stopping him. “What's wrong?”

Nate didn't say anything—didn't even look at him. 

[I'd say that he didn't want to look at your ugly mug, but you're still wearing your mask. You _are_ wearing your mask, right?]

Wade touched his face to make sure. Yup, he was still wearing his mask.

“You're avoiding me,” Wade said to Nate, trying to keep his voice even. “I don't like being avoided. It makes me think that you're trying to ignore me.” Nate tried to tug away, but Wade strengthened his grip. “I do stupid things when I feel ignored.” 

[Like try to destroy your world, and orchestrate your own death by the hand of your crush.]

Nate froze. “Wade, I...” 

“You what?” Wade asked, stepping around the larger man to stand in front of him, trying to get the mutant to look at him. 

Nate turned his head to look away.

[Are you _sure_ we're wearing the mask?]

“Naaaaate,” Wade said desperately, practically whining, hands on the larger man's shoulders. 

Nate stiffened under his touch. “Wade, look...”

“At what?!” Wade demanded. 

[Your voice squeaked.]

“Shut up!” he hissed. 

Nate flinched. 

“I wasn't talking to you,” Wade said quickly, hands unclenching from the mutant's shoulders as he took a step back, looking down. “I was talking to the voice in my head.” 

“I know,” Nate said. 

When Wade looked up, Nate quickly looked away again.

* * *

“Does anybody else smell the sexual tension in the air?” Noh-Varr asked, from where he was kneeling in the middle of the floor and welding something, dark glasses covering his eyes. 

“Aha!” Fantomex said triumphantly, turning to Psylocke and saying, low and sultry, “You cannot deny our connection, _amour.”_

“The Kree meant the _reciprocated_ sexual tension, Fantomex,” Psylocke said dryly. 

“...What?” Fantomex said, blinking. 

“Look that way, Frenchman,” Domino said, jerking her head at where Deadpool and Cable were standing together.

Fantomex looked over at them, blinking. “Oh,” he said after he'd watched them for a moment. _“Oh.”_ He turned back to the others, asking, “Vraiment?”

“Really,” Psylocke said wryly. 

“I don't understand human sexuality,” Noh-Varr admitted as he continued working on the Skrull-detecting equipment.

* * *

“What did I do?” Wade asked, voice choking slightly, feeling doubly thankful that he was wearing his mask, hiding both the state of his face and his expression, because his eyes were feeling a little wet.

“No!” Nate said, whipping his head to look at him. 

Wade flinched. 

“Wade, you didn't do anything,” Nate said, sounding frustrated. “I just... you're... _distracting.”_

“Because I'm insane and never stop talking,” Wade guessed, swallowing around the lump in his throat. 

[And you have a voice in your head.]

“And I have a voice in my head,” Wade added. He started to feel indignation rise. “Nate, you _knew thatno,_ that's _not_ the reason.” 

“Then _what is it?”_ Wade demanded, throwing his arms out. “You're treating me like I _did something,_ but I'm pretty sure I haven't actually done anything! I got the part that Noh needed, and I _tried_ not to kill anybody! I think I only accidentally maybe killed like _one_ person, but it was partly his own fault because—”

“Wade,” Nate interrupted, looking at him desperately.

* * *

“Ugh, I wish they'd just _kiss each other_ already!” Domino groaned, flopping back onto the couch and throwing an arm over her face. 

“Humans really can't smell attraction?” Noh-Varr asked curiously, glancing between Domino, Psylocke, and Fantomex. “Because their horniness for each other is pervading this room.” 

“Only humans like Wolverine can smell that kind of thing,” Fantomex said dryly. 

“All the _pining_ I've had to deal with...” Domino moaned. 

Psylocke was watching Deadpool and Cable intently.

* * *

_“What?”_ Wade demanded, and his trigger fingers were twitching, and his brain was starting to seem like a good place to stick a bullet. 

[I am getting _serious_ deja vu here. Isn't this just the kind of thing that made you try to destroy the world and get yourself killed and subsequently end up with me in your head in the first place?]

“I'm sorry, Wade,” Nate said, looking pained. “I...” He took a step toward Wade, reaching out a hand, and Wade felt butterflies in his stomach before the hand retreated, and suddenly Nate was stepping around him and striding across the room to leave.

 _~Wade.~_ came Psylocke's voice in his head. 

[Hey! Rude! Don't you know to knock first?!]

 _~Nathan wants to kiss you, too. He's running because he thinks that you don't feel the same way, and that you'd get angry if he tried to kiss you—_ touch _you—like he wants to.~_

“What?” Wade said, blinking. 

~Nathan is so happy to have you back and alive that he doesn't want to risk ruining anything. But when he looks at you he wants to kiss you so much it hurts. (And he keeps broadcasting it loudly and it's really annoying.)~

“Really?” Wade asked, eyes widening. “The _idiot.”_ He ran after the larger man, catching him just as he entered the hall. “Nate! Nate, wait!” 

“Wade,” Nate said, turning, looking hurt, “I can't— _mmph.”_

Wade, still masked, silenced Nate with a hard kiss.

* * *

_“Finally!”_ Domino cheered from the couch. “You two are _idiots,_ you know that?!” 

They didn't hear her.

* * *

“Wade, you...” Nate said, pulling back, confused.

 _“Love you,_ you idiot,” Wade growled, rolling up the bottom of his mask and kissing Nate again, darting his tongue out to taste Nate's lips. “I don't _deserve_ you,” he said when he pulled back, meeting Nate's shocked, mismatched eyes, “but I _love_ you.” 

“But you were—” Nate started, brow furrowed. 

“Oggling other people to try to make you jealous, even though I was sure that you didn't, couldn't, and never would feel that way about me,” Wade interrupted him.

* * *

“Idiots,” Psylocke grumbled from the couch, rolling her eyes. 

“Tell me about it,” Domino groaned as she flopped back against the cushions. “I'm actually not sure which one of them is _more_ idiotic. And since one of them is _Deadpool,_ that says quite a lot about Nate's level of idiocy.” 

“They're idiots in different ways,” Psylocke supplied. “Wade lacks self-confidence, while Nathan is emotionally-stunted.” 

“We should change your codename from Psylocke to _Psychologist,_ ” Domino snorted.

“I think Betsy is actually pretty emotionally stunted herself,” Fantomex said, somewhat bitterly. 

Psylocke glared at him, and Fantomex said, “You are in denial of our connection, my darling!” 

“There's no connection to be in denial of,” Psylocke said coolly. 

_“Aie,_ so cruel!”

Domino snickered at them.

* * *

“Wade—” Nate started, looking at him in some complicated mixture of disbelief and realization and awe and lust. 

“Shut up and _kiss me,_ you idiot,” Wade growled. 

Nate shoved Wade against the wall, invading the mercenary's mouth with his tongue and pressing a thigh between Wade's legs, making him moan. 

Wade's hands snuck up to clench in Nate's hair, his body arching against Nate's as Nate pressed against him, both of them moaning loudly.

* * *

Domino peeked over the back of the couch to watch them. 

Noh-Varr kept working as if nothing was happening. 

Psylocke sighed, before getting up and exiting the room. 

Fantomex groaned and flopped back onto the floor. “I do _not_ want to hear the moans of two men about to get laid when I am not going to get laid by the girl of my dreams for the forseeable future.”

“I dunno, you might get lucky,” Domino said, turning her head to smirk at him. 

_“Non,”_ Fantomex said. “Betsy is the only one for me.” 

Domino snorted, rolling her eyes. “I wasn't propositioning you. You're really not my type.”

* * *

Nathan had moved his mouth to Wade's neck, and was doing things that were making Wade's head swim and his dick perk up.

Wade moaned, hips thrusting forward to rub his growing erection against Nate's huge thigh. 

[And it's so _hard_ to get an erection in this suit, too. Heh.]

“Your bedroom,” Wade panted, trying to shove Nate away from him. _“Now.”_

When Nate reluctantly pulled back after nipping Wade's shoulder through the suit, and Wade grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hall to Nate's room, the door closing with a _bang._

* * *

In the main room, there were a few minutes of rather awkward silence. 

“Can I get a room _as far away_ from _theirs_ as possible?” Noh-Varr asked as he examined the piece of gadget he was working on. “I have heightened senses.” 

Domino reached out and patted him on the arm. “Sure thing, alien boy. Say, have you ever done it?” She sat up, looking at him curiously. “With a human?” 

“Not with a human, no,” he said, not looking at her, tinkering with the gadget for a moment, before digging through the pile of parts next to him. 

“But with a not-human?”

“I had a lover in the 18th Kree Diplomatic Gestalt,” Noh-Varr said, tone unconcerned as he found the part he was looking for, turning back to the gadget he was working on, “but she died when our ship was shot down over Earth crashed. Her name was Merree.” 

“I'm sorry,” Domino said. She looked at him thoughtfully, tilting her head. “How old are you, anyway? Cuz you look like you're sixteen.” 

“Kree have longer lifespans and age differently than humans,” Noh-Varr answered, still focused on assembling the device. “However, I am approximately the equivalent of a human eighteen-year-old. Approximately.” 

“So you're capable of informed consent,” Domino said, blue lips twitching. 

Noh-Varr raised his eyebrows, glancing at her. 

Domino sighed, leaning back into the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “Too bad you're not my type, either.” She growled in frustration. “Is it weird that I'm so turned on by the idea of Wade and Nathan having sex?” 

“Yes,” Fantomex said immediately. 

“As far as I can tell, it is a natural human reaction to feel arousal when witnessing or imagining the copulation of others,” Noh-Varr answered, still not looking up from his project. “That is what porn is for, am I correct?” 

_“Ugh,”_ Domino groaned, rolling off the couch and then getting to her feet, walking out of the room. “I need a cold shower.” 

A few minutes later Fantomex got up and left as well. 

Which just left Noh-Varr, who put on headphones, turned on his music, and kept working on his Skrull-detector as if nothing had happened.

* * *

_**~A passionate round of sex later, Cable's room~** _

* * *

It turned out that Wade was very into post-coital snuggling. 

Not that Nathan was complaining. In fact, it was actually… _nice._

Wade was draped over his chest, eyes closed, smiling and humming softly. Nathan couldn't tell what the song was, but it didn't matter. He just loved hearing Wade's voice. 

Even humming, Wade's voice at that ridiculous, hollow Demi Moor sound. Nathan could feel Wade's humming like the purring of a cat. 

He ran his hand over the mercenary's back, tracing the scars that were a testament to all Wade had been through, all that he'd survived and endured. It was a miracle that Wade could still function. 

“Can't remember the last time someone actually wanted to have sex with me,” Wade murmured against Nathan's neck. “That was good. That was _really_ good. Especially since it was with _you._ ” 

Nathan turned to press a kiss to Wade's forehead. “I have to agree.” 

Wade snickered, his breath tickling Nathan's skin. “Can't believe you thought I didn't love you. I thought it was _obvious._ I thought even the _Celestials_ could tell, just by glancing down at Earth for a second.” 

“I've never been that good with emotions,” Nathan admitted guiltily. 

Raising his up to look at him, Wade watched him for a moment, before kissing him, lazy and slow. 

“We're both pretty fucked-up,” Wade said, when he'd broken the kiss and settled back down against the larger man. “So maybe this will work out between us.” 

Nathan's hand on the mercenary's back held him tighter. “I lost you once, Wade. I can't even tell you how painful that was. I am _not_ losing you again.” 

Wade sighed against his neck. “What the hell did I do to deserve you, Priscilla?” 

Nathan's thumb brushed over rough skin, and he moved to press a smile against Wade's lips. “You _lived.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nooooo, it got too cute! Whyyyyyyy?? XD
> 
> Oh, and I can't write sex scenes. Really, I can't. So I'm afraid all the shmexytimes will be remaining off screen… 
> 
> Translations (all French):  
>  _prévaloir_ – prevail  
>  _Vraiment?_ \- Really?  
>  _Aie!_ – Ouch!  
>  _Non_ \- No
> 
> Anyways! Thoughts?? Did I make this work? 
> 
> (And is anybody familiar with Noh-Varr? Anybody? Bueller? Bueller?)


End file.
